On Sunday, November 15 at about 5pm, I came home and asked my boyfriend of three years with whom I own a home and am responsible for two living creatures if we should break up now or in three year’s time.
But I’m getting ahead of myself…
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Hi. My name is Ben. I have the career I set out to get when I was in tenth grade. I have the house I set out to purchase when I was unemployed in 2007. I have the committed relationship I set out to get when I was reeling from a breakup in 2006. I have the dogs I set out to adopt when I met my first four-legged friend when I could barely walk.
I have – without question – achieved everything I’ve ever set my sights on. My father will attest to this as he is always more than happy to tell a delightful tale about how I nearly pushed him over the edge during the Swimming Lesson Stand-Off of 1992. In fact, a guest post might be in order.
I have – also without question – unwittingly and unintentionally found myself completely immersed in a colossal life crisis. The kind that has you in a constant state of fight-or-flight. The kind that boils up with every inch of foot that you start to keep planted firmly out the door. The kind that wakes you up one morning, scissors firmly in hand, ready to cut and run.
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As he calmly continued to prepare his dinner, he listened as I very rationally explained that I felt trapped – boxed in to the commitments and limitations that I had created for myself. That after 24 years of having goals for myself, I’m struggling to set goals that work for me within the greater context of us.
As he took each bite of pizza, he listened as I very rationally explained that it’s beside the point that I’ve never wanted to be an Olympic athlete, or that I’ve never felt the need to make it in New York City, or that I’ve never felt the push to hitchhike across Eastern Europe with nothing but a pair of nice ass jeans and a passport, but rather that at age 24 I’m realizing that these are no longer things that I can do without breaking free. That unlike when I was younger, no one looks at me and says, ‘you can be whoever you want to be, you can go wherever you want to go, you can do anything you want to do’ anymore.
As he slowly chewed pepperoni and cheese, he listened as I very rationally explained that the risk of waiting three years only to realize that we weren’t meant to be, or that he was holding me back, or that I was holding him back, was simply too much. That I would rather start over today than when I’m 27. Or 30. Or 50. That without more confidence, more assurance, more certainty, I’m too scared to commit the best years of my life to something that could easily fade.
As he cleaned up his dishes, he listened as I very rationally outlined the list of things that he has said over the past few months that made me doubt us, that made me worry about the future, that made me spend more time thinking about what I could do to make sure I survive instead of what would make us survive. He maintained eye contact as I threw statements he made weeks and months ago in his face that I never bothered to bring up so he would know they made me feel insecure.
He stood right by me as he tackled each one, clarifying his stance, drawing the statements out from under the mass of subtext I had created in my head, explaining that for someone who communicates for a living I can be a complete basketcase.
That part was tongue-in-cheek. And totally true.
He didn’t mind that I couldn’t look at him as he suggested that I might feel lost only because I’ve achieved all the goals I’ve set out after and that’s a good thing. That opportunities are only slipping between my fingers because I haven’t decided to chase them yet. That no one gives you a gold sticker for crossing everything off your list – that you need to keep following your passions and keep creating new goals.
He put his hand on my shoulder with a smile as he explained that he’s going to hang on. That he’s ready to entertain any dream I decide to chase. That he’s ready to come along for the ride or stay behind as long as my happiness is the end goal. That if this life we’ve made is as bad as it gets, he’ll take it no matter how much uncertainty is ahead. That not knowing is okay sometimes. That if he’s going to be unsure with anyone, he’d rather be unsure with me.
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On Sunday, November 15 at about 7pm, I came home and asked my boyfriend of three years with whom I own a home and am responsible for two living creatures if we should break up now or in three year’s time.
He called my bluff. And when all the cards were on the table, we both decided to keep betting on us.